Here i am again.

a storm collapsing over my forest

lightning striking down some of the strongest trees

of identity, and of existence.

 

A rapid onset emotion. 

That's all.

But while i live here, i am not live

rather, i am something that is waiting to be cooked, eaten. 

I am frozen, not fresh. 

i’m a mind now, not flesh

at least as meat there is a purpose, someone benefits from this body

this existence.

 

I try to live in my body, to breathe

but in the darkness i know 

that my vital organs are like lovers lacking a spark they once did have

they won’t cooperate.

they will never be the same again.

 

I do not phone you.

i send a distress signal, alien to our normal calls

bubbling laughter, salacious gossip and true intimacy  is replaced with a one sided conversation.

but you are an umbrella, you may not dry me, but i can trust you to stop the rain.

 

Rolling thunder.

Thunder is an aftermath, an effect. 

i feel safe enough to leave now.

the next morning i am revitalised, redeemed, alive.

all i feel is sorry to bother you. 

and life goes on.

 

Though the corners are lit, the dark can return with the flick of a switch.

A flick of my finger though, and there is some illumination.

i am so lucky to have a nightlight.

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